


This Is What It Feels Like

by bastylle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Cancer, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, High School, M/M, One Shot, Prose Poem, Underage - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:04:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastylle/pseuds/bastylle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's wind and fog, and the squishing sand beneath them. It's that walk in the cold, with the endless road before them. It's summer nights and the trees, with buzzing lights around them. And it's Harry. It’s always Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is What It Feels Like

“That’s what it feels like when you touch me.  
Like millions of tiny universes being born  
and then dying in the space between your finger and my skin.  
Sometimes I forget.”  
Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You

• Louis is 10 and Harry is 8 •

"We learned about deep sea reefs today." Harry’s snuggled deep in his blankets, his side pressed up against Louis’ as he starts on some totally unrelated topic to the song they were just talking about. But its okay because that's Harry. And at this time of night his voice is softer, and his curls smell of strawberry shampoo, and everything looks like moonlight; blue and washed, and easier.

"There’s this fish down there, that’s got this light on his head, I forget what it's called, but it's cool looking Lou. You’d like it." And there’s that nickname that sends a shock through Louis veins.

"It sounds cool"

"Yeah" Harry’s voice sounds full if sleep.

There’s that moment where all there is the rain outside, and the quiet static of Harry and him. It's always comfortable like this, better. It's only him and Harry, like its always been, and they get it, they get each other. The silence is nice, and Harry’s warmth on his side burns through his pajama top, but that’s nice too.

Then Harry’s shifting his weight, and his head is on Louis shoulder. This is comfortable and familiar, but it stirs Louis insides, and all he can feel is Harry all over. (But it feels right, and he goes with that).

It's minutes later, when Louis’ arm has gone a little numb and Harry’s breathing is a little slower that Louis talks;

"H" a single syllable sound.

Harry’s hair slightly on his chest when he turns his head to look up at Louis and the moonlight washing in through the window casts a streak of icy blue across his eyes. Louis notes the color of green they look in that moment in a little Harry drawer in his mind, full of things he's pretty sure he's in love with.

"Hmm."

"Do you think you can love someone?" Louis avoids topics like this with Harry because he's young and energetic, and stuff like love is heavy. But Louis thinks maybe Harry does know something about it, Louis swears he does. Its a feeling made up of that day they met when Louis was four, with chubby cheeks and eyes that saw nothing but light in the world. A day where Harry was two, only stringing a few coherent sentences together, all wispy dark blonde hair and dirty clothes. Its the secrets told, and the way Harry curls into Louis late at night. Its the rain outside, on this cold October night that makes Louis ask.

"Well sure." Harry mumbles half into Louis shoulder and half into the night air. “Mummy and daddy say they love each other, so I guess so."

"But do you think that you could love someone," Louis’ voice is low, but somehow still too loud for the night. All he is focusing on is the slight brush of Harry’s lips on his shoulder with every breath he takes. “the way your mummy loves your daddy."

Harry hasn’t thought about love all that much. He thinks about Louis a lot though. About the big words he says that make Harry think he's the smartest person in the whole world, and the blue color of his eyes that are better than any ocean his mum has taken him to. He thinks about Louis when the clock in his classroom gets closer to the thee o’clock bell, because that’s when he gets to see Louis, and hold his hand down the sidewalk. And sometimes, when he's all alone, he’ll thinks about Louis holding him closer and petting his curls as he falls asleep, just like now. He thinks maybe Louis is love.

"Yeah, I do." And if Harry tightens his grip on Louis shirt when he says that, no one has to know. Louis feels it of course, he feels every part of Harry touching him like a scorching heat and an electric buzz, like Harry is too much for his skin to feel. And Louis knows that Harry knows about love by that little half smile he's giving Louis in the blue of the night.

"Harry?"

Harry makes a small humming noise in the back of his throat and his hands curl in the fabric on Louis’ back. “Do you think it would be okay if I kiss you?” Louis’ words are steady but his heart is beating like he rain falling outside. He thinks maybe Harry can feel it, and that’s okay, because he's responsible for it after all.

"I think it would be okay." Harry’s voice is considerably shakier and his mind is racing, but he thinks it would be a lot more than okay if Louis wanted to kiss him.

So he does.

It’s different then kissing your mum, is Harry’s first thought. All he smells is Louis skin, and all he feels is sure and safe. Louis’ got a hand on Harry's hair, and his lips feel warm and solid beneath Harry’s trembling ones.This is right, this feels right. Its short and incredibly sweet, and when Louis pulls away, Harry feels stars bursting on his lips.

Yeah, Louis is definitely love.

Nothing is said after that. Louis keeps his hands in Harry’s hair, when he lowers his head back onto his shoulder, smoothing soft patterns in his scalp. They’re a tangle of limbs and slow breathing as the moon raises higher in the rain soaked night.

And if Louis’ whispers a small thank you into Harry’s hair after he drifts to sleep, no one has to know.

• Louis is 13 and Harry is 11 •

"Just a piece Lou, please." Harry drags out the e, over exaggerating his need for a piece of the chocolate bar in Louis’ hand.

They’re both piled on the couch in Harry’s living room, Louis sprawled out from tip to end, Harry settling himself on Louis legs. Its normal and easy, them fitting together perfectly. There’s a cheesy Christmas song playing softly from the radio situated on the fireplace mantel, and the snow outside the window hits the ground in quite pads. Everything inside is warm and close, and Harry is there, radiating light and making Louis impossibly warmer. Because its Harry, and Harry is always there.

"But peppermint chocolate is my favorite Harry." Louis fakes a desperate facade, clutching the candy bar tightly to his chest.

Harry leans forward onto Louis, nuzzling his head into the crook of his neck. “I thought I was your favorite.” He pouts into the warmth there. All Harry can smell is peppermint and louislouislouis and that’s a little dizzying.

"You are you cheeky twat." Louis shoves Harry away from him playfully, taking a bite of his sweet from the other hand.

Then Harry is everywhere.

His lips on Louis’ filling his whole body up with stars. They’re a lot better at this kissing thing now, but it still puts Louis’ body into overdrive, because Harry is there and he's kissing him, and that’s beautiful. There’s no rush behind the kiss, its not one that’s meant to lead to something more, because they’re young and they have all the time in the world. No, it's slow and sweet, and full of lips slipping gently, and the taste of peppermint. Louis’ got his hands in Harry's hair again, carding his fingers through the new curls, (The curls are in that drawer in his mind too.) and Harry cant help the smile that spreads across.

"Boys."

Harry shoots back too fast, and his head is stirring, but maybe that’s just from Louis. Anne’s face is bright red, and her hands are settled on her hips in an attempt to look more serious, but the ends of her lips are quirked in a smile, and all she's pulling off is giddy. It’s not the first time they’ve been caught kissing by there mums, but it never takes the embarrassment out of the whole ordeal. They told there mums together about them one night at dinner after a movie. Well, rather. Harry blurted out that Louis kissed him, and then turned the cutest color of pink and hid his head in Louis’ chest. And, well, its just been a thing since then. Its Harry and Louis like its always been, just more. “I-im sorry mum, I just, and, i-” Harry’s never been that quick at explaining things.

"Honey, its fine. I just don’t want chocolate all over the couch when Gemma gets home." Anne waves a chastising finger over to Louis’ hand holding the chocolate bar, getting dangerously close to the couch cushions.

"I’m sorry." Louis says, pushing off the couch and tossing the remains of the chocolate bar in the bin near the Christmas tree.

"Thank you Louis." Anne says, dusting her hands off on the apron around her waist. “Now you boys go clean up, she’ll be here in half an hour."

Harry and Louis were halfway up the stairs when Anne called out a “and separate showers Mr.” aimed at Louis. And there was that ridiculous laugh ringing through the air and poking dimples in Harry’s cheeks.

Yeah, Louis loved that to. • It was later that night, when the snow was falling harder, and the night hung tightly to the earth that it was just Harry and Louis again. Harry and Louis snuggled too close in a bed too small for the both of them now.

"I like you best in the moonlight." Louis whispered it low into Harry’s ear, as a secret almost.

"Why?" Harry was wound around Louis just like he was three years ago, and there was still that stirring feeling deep in his stomach he got from being so close to him.

"Cause you’re all sleepy, and your eyes look super green, and its just, us." It was a lot more then that, Louis could list for hours, but Harry knew everything Louis never said somehow. They just understood. Louis nudged Harry’s chin up slightly so he could catch his lips with his, because Harry was to bright to deny. It was just easy, and there, and he never got tired of kissing Harry.

But then Harry was gone and reaching around for something on the floor.

"What a-" “Shh" Harry was holding Louis phone in front of his face, squinting in the dark at the florescent screen for a moment, before it hit the ground with a thud.

And then Harry was straddling his hips and the moonlight was hitting his eyes just perfect. Little patterns falling down his face delicately with the snow, and he had this smug grin on that Louis really wanted to kiss off.

"Happy birthday Lou."

Louis almost had a moment to understand that’s what Harry was looking on his phone for, almost, before Harry’s lips were on his, and his hips were doing this wonderful thing, and well, there wasn’t much he could understand anymore.

• Louis is 16 and Harry is 14 •

Louis knows he's in love with Harry. He's known since Harry’s little pudgy hands grabbed onto his on his first day of year one, and asked him with his little lisp to walk to school with him. And he knew everyday since, and loved him everyday more. Harry knows Louis loves him, everyone around them knows. Its through the words and the kisses and the moonlit silences that he knows. Its just a thing, and Harry just gets it.

But Louis has never really said it.

There’s this little guest house that Louis’ dad built when he was seven, in the woods a couple hundred yards from the main house. Its quiet there, the walls are climbing in moss and the trees block it from the rest of the world. Louis was first allowed in when he was 14, and he loved it instantly. The room smelt slightly of mildew, and the paint was chipped in odd places, but to him, it was just one of those perfect places you read about.

The thing is, Louis kept it to himself. He had this creeping feeling from the moment he stepped into it that it was a place Harry would fall in love with. The way he fell in love with foggy mornings, and hidden fields, and the moon. So he kept it hidden for something bigger than a random showing. Because Harry was something bigger to Louis’ life then anything, and he needed something to show that. This house was his answer.

It was one of those heavy nights in July, when the air hangs to every inch of skin and the earth never sleeps. Harry feels hotter than ever on Louis’ skin. Everything feels a little too close, sticking together and heating up. But its nice because Harry’s curls are sticking in every direction, and his cheeks are the most beautiful color pink against Louis shoulder.

He's mumbling on about how he thinks this heat might actually kill him when Louis heart gives a tug and he thinks he might actually be swallowed up with how much he loves the boy wrapped around him.

"Harry, love, I need to show you something."

"M’ tired Lou." Harry clings tighter to Louis, and everything goes fuzzy for a second.

"No, come on, up, this is important H." Louis’ got himself detached from Harry’s grip now, and he's standing at the edge of the bed, pulling at Harry feet.

"Mmm fine." And then Harry is standing beside him, and the air is thick between them as Louis reaches out to grab hold of his hand. It’s not hard getting out of Louis’ house, because the moon is full and there’s no one else home to wake up accidentally. Louis’ parents are always away, but he cant find it in himself to feel bad when Harry’s wound around him almost each night. The loneliness never comes because Harry is always there, and that’s enough.

Their out in Louis yard and Harry is asking questions but Louis ignores them. His grip on Harry hand gets tighter when they breach the trees. He catches sight of the white door, and he makes to shush Harry but he's already gone dead silent.

Harry’s looking past Louis’ head and into the forest beyond them, his eyes fixed on the little house nestled in the trees. The green of his eyes are shinning wildly in that color that only the moon makes, plus something new. Something so full of emotion. Its a lot to take in, because, yeah, it's beautiful. Sat all alone in the moonlit woods is this dainty wooden house crawling in moss, and surrounded in the color of wildflowers. Harry’s always been a little impartial to beautiful things like that.

"What’s this?" Harry’s voice is a little breathy so Louis just holds tighter to his hand and leads him closer to the door. “You didn’t build this, right? Oh god you did because you’re amazing and I suck. I’m the worst boyfriend oh god, wow." Harry’s babbling now, but its adorable and he's adorable, and most of the time, Louis can't stand it.

"No I didn’t build it you sap, my dad did, now hush." Louis digs around in his pocket before producing the key to the house. The door lets out a small whine of protest to the intrusion before they’re submerged in the silence of it all. Its different with Harry here, Louis thinks, better this way. Complete. Because nothings really a thing without him there. It's just Louis, and that’s not right, because everything is Harry.

Harry’s wandering the room with the most intrigued expression, taking it in, falling in love with every odd paint chip, and fray of the rug. Because Harry's always found the most lovely detail in the most broken part of something.

Louis glides the door securely shut behind him because tonight is just Harry and him. This night is for him being something more important, more solid than the house. There’s a click where Louis switches the creaky air conditioning system on in the corner before he's walking towards Harry.

He's got Harry's head on his shoulder with his arms wrapped sure around his waist, and everything feels real. Like there could be a million summer nights stood just like this, and Louis would still want to repeat all of them.

Harry can feel Louis lips making a sparatic trail on his neck, his lips leaving heat behind every inch of skin they touch. And then Louis is spinning Harry around and his hand are in his curls. This is familiar, and right. The moonlight and the color of Louis eyes, and the warmth of having an emotion so alive.

"I love you. God, I'm so in love with you." Louis’ voice is a little watery, but its there. The words that were always spoken secretly and hidden, they’re raw and unfiltered in the blue washed moonlight between them. All he sees is the green of Harry’s eyes when he says it, the color so brilliant, and the soul so incredibly there. And Louis could go on about how much Harry means to him, and quote all the cliche poetic things he thinks Harry is in words, but right now isn’t the time.

Harry’s heart gives a lurch, because even if he thought he knew, hearing it out loud means so much more. Because Louis loves him, and the stars could burn to dust and he wouldn’t care. Not now, not tonight, not when he is loved by the sun and the moon and the only sure thing in his life.

And when they kiss, standing there in the light by the window, everything is soft around the edges, and it all means a lot more now. Because they might be young, and things like this probably shouldn’t be understood or accepted yet, but it's them. And it's different.

And later in the night, when rain starts to hit the leaves of the trees around them, Louis lays Harry down on that mattress in the quite of the woods. And things are slow and careful, and absolutely right. Its just another first that they could only give to each other. Its full of soft touches, and kisses that burn too bright and fog there heads. And when they’re as close as they can be, Harry only wants to be closer. It happened like a story book in a place you read about, with the stars raining down around them, and their worlds a tangle of limbs between them.

When Harry’s curled into Louis chest in the first light of the morning, breath slow and heavy, Louis might whisper all those poetic things into his curls, but no one has to know.

• Louis is 17 and Harry is 14 •

There’s a road before them, dusted in flakes of snow, and a road behind them, with fading footprints and words caught in he wind. Harry’s hand is warm in Louis’ despite the absolute absurd temperature surrounding them. It might have been Louis’ bright idea to take a walk in the middle of the night in January, but Harry’s not complaining.

There’s a stretch of silence between them, because they don’t usually need words to carry a conversation. Its spoken with the brush of Harry’s thumb on the back of Louis’ hand, and Louis” bright eyed smiles.

But some things need to be said.

"Do you remember when I was eight and I told you about that fish with the light on his head?" Harry’s stopped moving now, and the flurries are sticking to he tops of his curls and the ends of his eyelashes.

"Yeah." Because of course Louis remembers, he remembers everything about that night.

"It's called an angelfish" and Harry’s smiling one of those smiles that pokes a dimple in his cheek.

"You’re kind of a dork."

"I know." And the light is not in Harry’s eyes tonight. Not when he smiles, or when he presses short kisses to Louis chapped lips, its a little dimmer.

But Harry’s still beautiful, because it’s Harry.

Their arms are swinging slightly between them where their hands are still clasped. Harry’s studying Louis face in the silent fall of the snow, and everything feels a little slower than it should be.

"Louis do you know what terminal means?" Harry’s voice is a little watery but his eyes never leave Louis’.

Louis is confused but he nods his head slightly.

"Well I didn’t" Harry’s gaze is on their hands now, " but I didn’t want to be that kid in the doctor’s that asks questions about words that everyone seems to know about already. And maybe I should have known. When my mom started crying and calling my dad on the drive home. So I looked it up when we got home and I didn’t really feel sad. Well at least not for me. I ju-"

And its in the middle of Harry’s little story the gears in Louis’ head spin and he kinda feels like he’ll pass out.

"What are you doing at he doctors Harry?" Louis cuts in, “And why should you have to know what terminal means?" And if Louis voice breaks slightly, Harry doesn’t notice.

"Because I have terminal cancer." And it comes out in a whoosh of breath that Louis swears takes the life out of him. “spreading from my lungs."

And the snow might have started falling harder but Louis doesn’t see it, because this is his life standing in front of him. This, Harry, is the only thing that makes sense and the only thing that works and means something. And if Harry is dying, it's wrong. Everything is so wrong.

But what Louis says is I love you. All he can think to do is hold Harry in the middle of this deserted street, at two in the morning, and tell him over and over and over.

"I love you."

• Louis is 17 and Harry is 15 •

Harry spends a lot of time in the hospital. Well, he spends all of his time in the hospital actually. And it kind of sucks. A lot.

Harry doesn’t have any hair left, but Louis’ found it doesn’t really bother him. What bothers him is the tubes in his nose, and the beeping of his heart monitor because Harry shouldn’t need any if that. Harry should be healthy, and Harry’s eyes should sparkle all the time, but they don’t, and he's not, and everything is wrong.

There’s a lot of flowers in Harry’s hospital room because he's one of those people that’s loved by everyone. Harry has a way with people, and every single flower probably came from someone with their own lists of things they love about Harry, and their own wish that he gets one of those storybook miracles.

Louis thinks he would give everything in his world to be in Harrys spot instead of him. But thinking doesn’t work. and miracle don’t happen, because this isn’t a storybook.

"Do you think it's okay to be sad?" Harry asks things like this a lot, especially since that night in the snow. He’s laying in his hospital bed, head on Louis’ chest, arm slung across his middle. And really, if the walls disappeared and Harry smelt more like strawberry shampoo, and less like medicine, this could be right.

"I think sad people know something more about the world you know? I mean you and I, we get it Haz, and we always have. But its so real to feel sad, and to let bad things get to us. And people who don’t, well they're the ones who probably aren’t so okay. You know?" And Louis’ not really sure what he's saying anymore, but he thinks that might have meant something.

"I think you’ll be okay Lou." And Harry’s whispering now, cause he's tired, he’s tired a lot.

Louis wont be okay. He knows that. He’ll be a shell of a person, with his heart and soul and any speck of coherent being dancing somewhere up in the brightest part of heaven with Harry. But he doesn’t argue with Harry, because Harry deserves the world, and the happiest version of it.

"I love you." Is all he says. Louis says that a lot.

"I love you more than this Lou," Harry gives a weak encompassing gesture to the machinery surrounding him. “When the cancer wins, I’ll still love you, everyday after, and everyday more. " and Harry, Louis thinks, deserves to be an angel, more than anyone in the world.

"Everyday until I’m with you again, and everyday beyond." And Harry smiles up at him, a two dimpled smile, that reaches his eyes for the first time in months.

There’s the warmth of Harry’s lips on his for a moment too short, and then he's settling back onto Louis chest. Harry looks warm and solid and so real, as he clutches tighter onto Louis shirt. There’s one last flash of a green so beautiful before Harry’s eyes flutter closed.

And the next morning Harry won’t wake up, but the night before was theirs. It was Harry and him, it’s always just Harry and him.

• Louis is 17 and Harry is gone •

The sand beneath Louis’ feet is too cold, everything is always too cold. And the moonlight on the water doesn’t make the air around him as blue or beautiful as it once had.

Because Harry is gone, and he made things beautiful.

But Louis still loves him everyday still and everyday more. And when the bed is too empty at night, there’s still that promise.

The water rushes slowly over Louis’ toes in the dim softness of the night. It’s almost midnight, the clock on Louis’ phone reads, and there’s this warmth in his side burning brighter than the moon. Its been there since he left. Because Harry always burned too bright, and loved Louis more than he deserved, and that left a mark.

It feels a lot like love.

The clock on his phone switches to 12:00 and the wind blows a little harder.

"Happy birthday Lou."

And if Louis’ the only one that hears his voice in that moment, and if he feels the warmth on his lips for a fleeting second, no one has to know.

Because Harry was his, and he was Harry’s. A little short lived, and a lot left unsaid, but it meant so much. More then moonlight or rain or whispered I love yous. More than their shared midnights, or even that last kiss.

It was kinda just Harry. Because it was always Harry.

And yeah, Louis thinks, he is love.

• Louis is 18 and Harry is gone •

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much, and hopefully i didnt hurt anyones heart too much x  
> ooh, im also on tumblr : tho1975.tumblr.com


End file.
